Filled with things
Filled with books
Random puzzle pieces everywhere
one working lamp
no room to relax but to lay with a cramp
i think of moving around
a place i can cry
a place where i can dance
a place to plan
a place to create
a place to display my personality
i find treasures underneath
i can think here. just me
looking outside the window to see what day would be
music always flowing
a place where i can scream
a place i call my bedroom.
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